Tour De Force

I agreed to do a lecture for the benefit of Downingtown Library last Thursday. The topic - "Influential books for and by artists - from the 15th to the 21st century". It began with Cennino Cennini and ended with the book I'm presently writing, "The Golden Age of Oil Painting - 1400-1800". The PAINT, PAPER, CLAY, WAX, WOOD show opening is imminent (November 10), so I had no business going off the rails this late in the process. But it got worse.

In the last few days, I began experiencing a new kind of fatigue. Around 3 or 4 PM in the afternoons, I would completely shut off. I'd find myself sitting in a chair or standing in a corner, vacantly staring at nothing, thinking nothing, practically unable to move and not knowing how long I had been there. Re-booting perhaps? It occurred to me later that this kind of mental exhaustion comes from trying to change yourself. Marie Paxson said to me a couple of days ago, "When you're going somewhere you've never been before, you have to do things you've never done before."

Thursday afternoon came, and what I feared most happened: total intellectual collapse and the lecture only three hours away! Getting in bed I thought, "Rest a bit and hopefully figure out something to say." Surprisingly, I fell asleep and awoke with a start. The entire lecture, presented itself complete and I immediately went around purposefully collecting books, paintings, drawings and etchings. I spoke for one hour extemporaneously, entirely without notes, surrounded by books and art. When asked for questions, an enthusiastic woman announced to the audience, "Each one of us has to go out and tell twenty people about this show coming up!" On the way home Leah said, "Adrian, that was a tour-de-force."

What just happened? Did I dream a lecture? Was it inspiration? Fatigue? Strange things can happen when you're trying to change.

Adrian

ENGRAVING IS DONE-15 DAYS TO GO!

My limited edition engraving for our catalogue is done. Having a limited edition piece for the show catalogue was Jeff's idea. I know at the time he brought it up everyone was thinking, "No way!" but he insisted it was a good thing to do and we should do it. So we did and now I can't imagine not doing it. It will be a great addition to the catalogue and the show.

With 15 days to go, I've got to move on to the next project, but first a pause to reflect. As I write these words, I know the other three artist are hard at work. It is difficult to speculate on just how much we have influenced each other, but I know we have. Being in such close and constant contact, reviewing each other's work and being energized by it has kept us all simmering in a bath of adrenaline.

An artist's profession tends to be a solitary one. As much as we love being around people, we all treasure our time alone. When you are alone, holding a cup of coffee, watching the steam curl up, with paint or clay all over your hands - that's when the magic happens. In my case, when I'm actually painting I'm probably in some sort of trance state because I lose all sense of time and myself. The times I'm actually aware of joy, inspiration, consternation, or outright fear is during those in-between moments.

Like right now. And yes I'm feeling all of the above.

Adrian

Not Shoulder, but Actaeon

After two days, the engraving has transformed from Shoulder to Actaeon. The shoulder is an anatomical mechanism. Actaeon was a famed huntsman in Greek mythology who stumbled upon the goddess Diana, naked, bathing in a sacred spring. Actaeon was hunting and the impertinence was totally unintended. Too late, he saw what no mortal should see and in revenge Diana turned him into a stag and his own dogs tore him to pieces.

What does all this have to do with shoulders, or engravings for that matter? First of all, you may be able to see in the photo of the plate after the first day's work a dark spot to the left of the figures elbow. This spot was a deeply corroded area that I could not easily polish out, so I left it thinking, "I'll deal with this later." At the end of the first day, I was musing on how to proceed and the thought occurred to me that that spot was a eye. But and eye of what? An eye of a dog. Why a dog? Because it's Actaeon! After all, he was already looking rather classical.

The next day, I started to work. Going through my dog pictures, I pulled out an Ibeza hound - perfect! The same animal is featured in my paintings, Picnic and Peaceable Kingdom. But first, my Greek hero needed some luxuriant hair. I wanted turbulent lines to contrast with the mostly straight hatching marks that made up the head, plus a dark area was needed on the side of the face to give it more depth and roundness. Tomorrow, I'll pull my first proof - always an exciting moment.

Wait! What about the dog? I lost the dog - too much of a distraction. The blemish got scraped and burnished off the surface and now it's smooth as a baby's butt.

Adrian

collector's edition

The catalogue for the show is looking amazing! Adrian and Jeff have been meeting with Bob from Brilliant Studio and continue to make it better each time. Just to give everyone a "head's up", there will be a small portion of the catalogues that will contain original pieces of artwork from each artist! These will be part of a "collector's limited edition" that will be personalized by each of us. I have just finished making my tiles for the catalogue...however, they still need to be fired, glazed and put back into the kiln. We are all currently working on our original pieces of artwork that will go into a select few of these catalogues. These will be for sale the night of the opening and during the show, don't miss out, they are limited in number and fabulous!
Rhoda

Shoulder

I started my new engraving today. It's called "shoulder", because that's what it is. I'll be working on it the rest of the week and into next week, so you can't see it yet. Hopefully, it'll be done and printed in ten days. The plate is a thick 4" x 6" piece of copper that I bought over 30 years ago. Originally, it was 18"x24" but it's been clipped smaller and smaller over time, and used for very special prints. I found it all crusty in the bottom of a box in the attic (yes, we have a real attic - including bats and cobwebs). It took an hour to polish the surface and bevel the edges so the plate won't cut the thick paper when it's inked and run through the press.

The basic drawing is already scratched in lightly with a drypoint needle, and I'll start the actual engraving tomorrow. The last thing I've got to do tonight is sharpen the burin. The burin is a small tool and there's not much to it, but it hasn't changed for thousands of years. Of course, it's only been used for printmaking in the last five hundred. When the burin is resting in the palm of your hand and you're pushing it forward like an index finger extension, there is a barely audible sound of copper coming up in curls as it's cut away.

Tomorrow, I'll spend five or six hours hunched over a table with my nose a few inches away from both hands as they work the plate. This probably sounds impossibly uncomfortable and, believe me, after six hours it is, but most of the time I'll be oblivious - lost in the reflections of a small gleaming piece of metal. The print must be built up line by line. During all this time you must hold to your vision with intensity, remember every stroke made, and anticipate every stroke to come. Six hours will pass as if they're sixty minutes.

Adrian

Part 3 - Inspired by Rhoda

"Remember that there are parts of what it most concerns you to know which I cannot describe to you; you must come with me and see for yourself. The vision is for him who will see it."

Plotinus said that more than 1,500 years ago. In two sentences, he has described the very core of art. Voice, vision - I have used both words interchangeably in this blog. The point is all artists must do two things...make and share. When I was a young artist (like all young artists), I tended to borrow what I wanted to share from older, greater, more mature artists. How could it be otherwise? I had skill but little experience. As I've aged, that has changed. With mastery, it's all me. Whether quoting in my work a beautifully painted passage from Piero Della Francesca (Florence 15th century) or Clifford Still (America 20th century) I make it mine. This is what Picasso was referring to when he said, in his typically pugnacious way, "Mediocre artist borrow, great artist steal!"

Does this mean that I think every artist's personal voice is ultimately somehow stolen? Is this a paradox, or worse, an irony? You can't steal what's given to you. No matter how ingeniously crafted or elusive a great work of art is, no matter how shy or evasive an artist is, what's ultimately created is meant to be shared.

"The vision is for him who will see it."

Adrian

Humbling Experience

Asking for help is never easy. I usually don't ask when it comes to something for myself, but this show is different. I have the privilege of working with these amazingly talented artists and am constantly in awe of what they can do...you would be surprised at their range. But now, it's not just the talent of these artists, but the support of friends, colleagues and art supporters. The old saying, "It takes a village.." is so true. When I am in my studio creating, my mind often wanders to past show openings, recalling all the friendly faces coming out to support me...wow...that's powerful. What a motivator! As Artists, where would we be if we didn't have people coming to view our masterpieces? The support from this show has been humbling, and we thank you. We need you and look forward to seeing you on opening night 11/10.

Rhoda